


While my blood's still flowing

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [70]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From runaway to Emperor’s Hand to smuggler, Mara’s life is her own (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	While my blood's still flowing

Crouched uncomfortably between crates, her legs cramp. She shivers against the cold chill on her back.

Steps come from the corridor. She won’t stay hidden very long if they look into the hold. She cringes as a bright light is shined in her eyes and raises a hand to block it out.

“Hey you! Get out of there!”

She stands up, light still directed at her blindingly. Her hair hangs limply in front of her haggard face. Hungry, tired ( _sleep evading her since she ran away_ ), in desperate need of a living; she is in no position to bargain.

She’s grabbed by shoulder, dragged out of the cargo hold, and shoved by the barrel of a blaster to the bridge.

“Booster, we’ve got ourselves a stowaway.”

“She’s a scrawny, little thing, ain’t she, cap?”

The captain turns around, his sizable gut jostling disgustingly, “Well, well, where did you come from?”

She doesn’t say anything.

A greasy finger parts the protective shield of her hair.

She snaps her teeth at it and Booster draws his hand back, laughing, “I thought I recognized that red mop. You’re Antar Jade’s girl.”

Still, Mara doesn’t say anything.

Not anymore. He and Syrule are the reason she’s here. The reason she’s not going back. She’s on her own now and that’s the way she wants it. Mara doesn’t need anyone to look after her.

“What are you doing on my ship?”

“I want a job.” He laughs again. The sound grates Mara’s ears. “I know the smuggling life. I know this type of ship. I can shoot – hold my own in a firefight if a deal goes wrong.”

“I don’t need a teenager on my crew.”

She grinds her teeth and plays her trump card, “I can help you put a hole in Antar’s credit purse.”

“You have my attention, Jade. Let’s see if you can keep it.”

The gamble pays off; Booster takes her on as a member of his crew. Her parents are going to regret teaching her how to deal a hand of sabacc.

\----------

The Emperor sniffs at the air ( _some time ago, he ceased thinking of himself by name – any name – and assumed his title_ ). Something has changed. Something is different. He has not felt such a stirring in a long time.

He asks his security advisor.

“We accosted a band of smugglers en route, your Excellency. Nothing to trouble yourself with.”

“Bring them to me,” he commands.

No man decides what the Emperor concerns himself with. They are unable to feel what he feels in the Force. Even scarred, they are beneath him.

Four men are brought to their knees. They are unremarkable.

“The rest are dead.”

( _Lies. There is another._ )

A fifth is brought before him: small, frail – weak. A girl.

“She ambushed us and nearly made off with a fighter before we got her.

His lips thin. The pull of the Force comes from her. His nostrils flare. He has never understood why the Force wastes itself on women. They do not possess the power to control it – they cannot master it. They must be mastered.

He will master her, as Darth Tyranus could not the unworthy nightsister.

“You are foolish to admit your incompetence,” the Emperor reprimands. “Leave us.”

The guards lead the other prisoners away.

She does not tremble; her head stays bowed. She has already made one escape attempt and might have succeeded. She is cleverer than most; that much he will allow to be true. He will not believe she is deserving of the Force, anymore than any other woman.

But he will not underestimate her, not as his men have done – not a slippery snake like her.

The Emperor rises from his throne.

Heavy is her fear. Deep is her anger. They are the venom that will transform her into his weapon. He does not have to lead her to the Dark Side as he did Vader; she already stands on the brink.

“You and your friends face execution for interfering with an Imperial vessel. Does that concern you?”

“Not my friends,” she spits at the ground.

“Then for yourself.”

She stiffens, the first visible sign of her fear, but she responds, voice shrinking, “Yes.”

“I can make those charges disappear –”

Her head snaps up, hair flies back and piercing eyes meet his, intrepidly.

The Emperor sneers. He shall have to strike fear back into her; no one looks at him like that. He is fear and he is power; no one should be undaunted in his presence.

“– But you must do something for me.”

Green eyes flicker.

\----------

Mara crumbles under the lightning. The Emperor cackles at her screams.

The blue streams end abruptly, but she continues to shudder in pain.

“Do not fail me again.”

His black robe sweeps over her and Mara is left on the floor of the throne room.

Lying on the ground, pain turns to searing rage. She hates him. She wants to hurt him – kill him. The thought burns and consumes her.

Fear is a sudden chill up her spine. ( _He’s too powerful. He would kill her before she ever had the chance._ )

Her hate steels.

She does not feel; she obeys and carries out orders, without question. ( _She cannot kill him. He is the only one who can teach her how to control the Force._ )

Mara is a knife – a hidden blade ( _the Emperor’s hand_ ).

She will not fail him again.

\----------

Whatever instruction his Master has given her, it is not enough. She cannot conceal her presence any better than her fiery hair.

A gesture of the hand and her hiding place is exposed.

Another, she is splayed at the Emperor’s feet.

The invisible fist of the Force violently grabs her by the neck and dangles her in the air.

Vader knows what his Master thinks of himself – the only one capable of commanding fear in people’s hearts. But he created Vader and Vader is fear. Fear cannot be terrorized; it can only intimidate.

It is the Emperor’s move. Let Vader crush the girl’s windpipe, prove she is nothing – disposable, replaceable, a thing – and relinquish power to him. Or call him off, maintain the hierarchy, but expose the Emperor’s weakness – his attachment – to this pet project.

Vader tightens his grip.

The assassin retches loudly.

The Emperor watches, cold and detached, not even a twitch in the aged man’s eye.

“Your Excellency, if I might make a suggestion,” Tarkin breaks the standoff.

The Emperor nods for the Moff to continue.

“I have use of Lord Vader’s particular skill on the Death Star. In payment for the stolen plans, I would like him to oversee the interrogation of the prisoners.”

Vader’s attention snaps, sharply and suddenly, from his Master to Tarkin.

If he had knuckles, they would be white. He suspected Tarkin was trying to push him out and this is his plan: remove him from the _Executioner_ , remove him from command – remove him from power.

The Grand Moff clawed his way into the Emperor’s graces, now Tarkin threatens to make him as irrelevant as his captive, clutching her throat and gasping for air.

He doesn’t let the Emperor grant Tarkin’s request; he makes the next move.

Vader drops his victim. He dutifully accepts his post, his place in the hierarchy safe. The assignment must not look like a punishment.

Tarkin’s lip curls. The Sith Lord remains unmoved.

There’s a deadness in the assassin’s eyes Vader recognizes; a mixture of hate and envy, lacking the will to fight back. She craves what he has.

He thinks of speaking to her, telling her his Master has no intention of teaching her the full power of the Dark Side, but he does not feel pity; it does not register in the gears which keep him alive.

Vader doesn’t waste his breath.

\----------

She bows before him these days, rather than kneeling or cowering. Mara Jade is stronger than she was when she first came to him, but not that strong; she is still a woman.

Though his voice croaks more every day, it is still thick with bitter frost. The Emperor relishes the shudder down her back when he speaks, “It has come to my attention the jeodu, Dequc, is reassembling the Black Sun. You are aware of this.”

“He calls it the Black Nebula now, my Lord.”

“Does he?”

The question hangs in the air. The name change shows his ego – his hubris. This ‘nebula’ will not grow large enough to produce any stars.

“Eliminate him.”

Mara bows her head further, accepting her mission.

“I am personally overseeing the completion of the Death Star. You will find me there when the jeodu is dead.” ( _There will be no mistakes this time._ )

“My Lord, what of my further training?”

_What of it, indeed._ He has not yet broken her of these headstrong ways, “It will come in time.”

“What time, my Lord?”

“I have no need of two apprentices and you are not worthy of such an honor, Mara.” Anger rises in her, but the Emperor raises a staying finger, “However, should Lord Vader fail to deliver young Skywalker, you may find yourself facing the untested Jedi. Then you may prove your value to me.”

She is appeased.

Vader is useless to him now; he needs new blood – fresh blood to carry out his bidding. The son is less powerful than the father; he will be more subservient.

There is commotion beyond the throne room. The assassin’s hand rests on her blaster and she disappears. The Emperor waits. Blaster fire, then silence. Mara reappears.

“Bothans,” she says distastefully.

The rebels grow bold. No matter, when their hero turns ( _or falls_ ), the rest will crumble.

“They are not your concern.”

( _Neither of them knows it, but_ ) Mara Jade bows to the Emperor for last time.

\----------

She’s come to the conclusion she doesn’t ( _can’t_ ) feel. In a room of the dead slumped over chairs and against walls – her victims – she felt nothing. Cut adrift from the Empire, she feels nothing.

She hears accounts of the Battle of Endor; they don’t interest her. She does not go to find her Master; there is nothing to find.

The Emperor is dead. Her life no longer hangs in the balance; she no longer has the opportunity to control the one thing which still seems to move in her.

This new age the Alliance is ushering in has no place for people like her. They will hate her, disdain her, tell her she is worthless.

Mara takes to the skies, falls back on what she knows: she joins one smuggling crew and then another one, when the first is stupidly caught – captured by an operational Imperial outpost. She escapes. She doesn’t bother to take the rest of them with her.

She moves from smuggling operation to smuggling operation; better posts, better pay, conflicts with the crew, fewer run-ins with the Alliance.

Something finally strikes a flint against her steeled skin: Luke Skywalker executed the Emperor and Darth Vader. The Jedi Knight takes his revenge on the Sith Lord.

It is only a tiny flame, but Mara feels.

Mara feels hate; she feels envy and anger ( _all cultivated in her by the Emperor_ ).

Mara feels _something_. The burning kindling melts the layer of ice left by her seven years of ruthless service.

Talon Karrde’s smirk is almost infectious when he hires her.

\----------

Arms folded, Mara blocks the exit. She raises her eyebrows as Karrde’s second-in-command tries to explain the missing credits from the accounts.

The captain doesn’t buy his story, “You’re lying, Flenn. You’re stealing from me.”

“I’ll bet she told you that. She’s been after my job since you hired her.” Flenn jabs a finger in Mara’s direction accusingly.

“ _She_ had nothing to do with it. _She’_ s here to throw you off the bridge, if necessary – hired gun and all. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you were skimming the profits?”

For kicks, Mara lets her holstered blaster flash in the light.

Flenn flinches when the glint momentarily blinds him, “Alright, I did it. I’ve been scraping the top of the barrel.”

“How long?”

“Almost a year.”

Karrde looks as if he might blow a fuse, but it passes quickly. His threat almost sounds genial, “You’ll pay me back, with interest, but as soon as we make port, you’re off my ship. For now, I just want you off my bridge.”

The disgraced lieutenant makes a point of knocking into her on his way out. Mara watches him stomp away over her shoulder then turns to Karrde, sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“Have a seat, Mara.”

Of all the smugglers she’s worked with, Karrde is the only one to use her given name. It was off-putting at first ( _too similar and nothing like the Emperor_ ). Now his familiarity is just another part of the job.

She takes the recently vacated seat opposite him.

“Tell me about yourself.”

She automatically tenses.

“Calm down. I’m not asking for personal reasons. Think of this as a job interview.”

Skeptically, “You’ve already given me a job.”

“Well, it seems I’m short a lieutenant. And you’ve proved yourself useful, intelligent, a great shot. I like that you’re an unexpected choice for a second, it puts perspective business partners off their game. I like what I’ve seen; now, I just need to know if I can work with you.”

“You mean you want to make sure I won’t steal from you?”

He shrugs, “And that. So, talk. What made you go into smuggling?”

_No other choices._ “Just looking for a new way to live.”

Karrde eyes her shrewdly, like he knows he’s not being given the whole truth, except unlike with Flenn, he doesn’t seem to care so much. “I have to say I’m surprised. There aren’t many who would choose this kind of life and you seem like you were born to it.”

Mara suppresses any physical signs of discomfort and tries not to think about the smuggling operation, on the verge of tearing itself apart, she left all those years ago.

“It suits me.”

“So it does. Alright, I’m starting your cut at 12%.”

“That’s more than you gave your last lieutenant.”

“It’s about as much as he was making after he stole from me. Besides, I like you better than I ever liked him.”

\----------

Karrde’s noticed her glowering.

“Nice kid. Not at all what I expected General Skywalker to be like, not from all we’ve heard.”

His goading and sarcasm are not appreciated at the moment. She doesn’t care what Skywalker is like; his presence reawakened the bitterness she thought she was ready to move past.

Mara keeps her answer short and simple, “No.”

“I would have thought the ‘Hero of Yavin’ could navigate around an asteroid field.”

She makes a noncommittal noise.

“He showed a good deal of interest in you.”

Mara whips around, “What did you tell him?”

He’s smirking, “I knew you were listening. What do you have against him?”

Annoyed, she turns back to the controls of the bridge and proceeds to check the engine gages, “I don’t have to answer that.”

“No, but if you don’t, that leaves me free to guess.”

Mara keeps her back turned toward Karrde.

Thinking out loud, “Either he said something to you in private or this has deeper roots. Possibly something to do with the past you’re so reluctant to talk about.”

“You’re not going to trick me into saying any more.”

“Fine, that’s your business. Just don’t let it interfere with mine. I expect this is not the last we’ll be seeing of General Skywalker.”

Mara considers it might be time to jump ship again. It’s always worked for her before – running from her problems, finding a new place and a new way to live.

She’d be on her own again, but for the first time she has more reasons to stay than to leave. She’s making good money. She’s second-in-command to the most powerful smuggler in the galaxy.

“Do what you want, Karrde, but I won’t deal with him.”

\----------

The Clone Wars did not teach Ahsoka how to lead armies. She commanded handfuls of men, but that was it. Not even two decades of rebellion prepared her for this.

Now she stands before three forces, all ready to follow her orders and trust her judgment.

“Jedi Knight Skywalker and Lieutenant Jade will lure the Zygerrians into free space. By decree of the Neutral Space Act, that will give our forces just cause to blockade Zygerria and any other systems under their jurisdiction. The blockade fleets will be commanded by Admiral Ackbar and General Gerrera.”

She gestures to the men beside her. Luke and Jade loiter somewhere in the back; their initial part is small enough they don’t need to be seen as part of the leadership.

“After the blockade is established, Captain Karrde will lead the Smuggler’s Alliance in bringing supplies to the enslaved persons and eventually transporting the emancipated slaves out of the systems, until the Slaver’s Guild gives in.

“When they surrender – and they will surrender – the Republic and Separatist fleets will take the lead on all fronts: transporting people and prisoners, shutting down all slave markets and holding facilities, and so on. From that point, the Smuggler’s Alliance is no longer obligated to aid this cause. You will be free to go on your way; however, those who stay will share in greater profits.”

She’s painting their task in broad strokes. It’s going to be so much harder than she’s making it sound.

“ _Jade’s Fire_ sets out at 0600. When they return to neutral air space, we’ll be ready. I can’t promise this will be easy; I can’t promise when it will be over, but the Jedi Order will see this through to the end and we thank you for your dedication.

“May the Force be with you,” as she says the words, Ahsoka feels the years of wisdom that always accompanied them.

A scraping of chairs and shuffling of feet accompany the adjournment of the briefing. Ahsoka exhales; her posture loosens, no longer under the undivided attention of her troops.

Luke and Jade wait for her by the exit.

“Your ship is prepared?”

They nod.

“And you know what you have to do?”

Luke nods again. Jade speaks up, “We’re ready.”

Ahsoka feels the anticipation of the coming storm all around, but not in Jade. Luke will find time and space before he leaves to mediate; for now, he feels tense. Saw, the Admiral, and the other officers hold their breath. Recruits pace, waiting for the hammer to fall.

The gathering clouds don’t frighten the ex-Imperial agent. There is a Jedi-like serenity about her. She must have seen ( _and done_ ) much worse than luring slavers across boundaries, but her calm is unrelated to such things.

“I know you are.”

Luke pulls Ahsoka aside, “Once we’re in the clear, I’m going to ask Mara to come to Coruscant. You’ll still train her?”

Swallowing, she swears she’s more ready to command three armies than to teach a padawan, but she made a promise.

“Are you still planning to tell her everything else?”

They are resolute.

Whoever she was, wherever she came from, there is no one unworthy of the Force.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
